Negative
by rensrenegade
Summary: And here they were, walking back down their stairs, curling up on the couch, and watching Saturday morning cartoons like the rest of their friends were with their children. Only they were alone, minus the dog and cat. They had a life together. It just wasn't what they wanted… not completely. But they got by.


Negative.

She sets the test down on the bathroom sink and bows her head between her legs. She pulls at her hair and stifles back a sob, begging to rip from her throat. She was so tired of crying; it didn't do any good anyway.

Crying wouldn't solve anything… it would only show weakness. And she was far from weak; she was stubborn and strong, and would never be caught dead with tears in her eyes.

So she wiped them away and squeezed her eye shut as she tried to regain her composure. Calm breaths, deep, breathe in… hold… breathe out.

"Bebe?" She hears the soft, tender voice at the door. "Can I come in?"

"I'll be out in a second," Bebe responds, then ripped the toilet paper, wiped herself, and flushed the toilet. She washed her hands, and stared at the minus sign on the test.

Another failed attempt. This time she swore they had it. This time felt different… but it wasn't. No, it was just her losing faith and hope. She didn't thinks he could go through this pain anymore.

They had been trying to conceive for years. Twelve, to be exact. Their efforts seemed futile at this point. Now that her friends all had children that were in junior high school… no, they would be lost in the confusion. There was no reason to think they actually could. In vitro hadn't worked, and her eggs were immature so they couldn't exactly use a surrogate.

Adoption was an option, and perhaps it would have been smarter to go that route then putting in all the money for the tests and the drugs and the tracking and procedures that did absolutely no good for her. She was just… a malfunction.

Bebe opened the door and smiled sadly at the blue eyes of her ever patient husband. He took one look at her and wrapped her in a tight hug, fingers already buried deep in her mess of girls. As if his arms could take away the emptiness in her heart and womb.

"I'm sorry, Ken…" she whispered into his chest. He clicked his tongue and pressed his lips to her head as he held her close to him. He couldn't bear to see another negative symbol. Neither of them could.

And here they were, walking back down their stairs, curling up on the couch, and watching Saturday morning cartoons like the rest of their friends were with their children. Only they were alone, minus the dog and cat.

They had a life together. It just wasn't what they wanted… not completely. But they got by.

But the negative was a reminder every time Wendy called asking for them to babysit her and Stan's kids while they went out.

The negative roared in her brain when she saw Karen, Kenny's sister, glowing with her swollen belly with her third child. She would never feel the kicks from her own stomach against her palm. She craved the swollen feet and the morning sickness and the three in the morning peanut butter cravings.

The negative was her anger every time they saw Kyle and Craig and Kyle's daughter on their monthly trips to wherever the hell they decided to go.

The negative was what held her back, what caused her to withdraw. The negative made him work harder, stay up later, talk to her less.

Each one blaming themselves when it was really just her own fault.

Her immature eggs, her broken body.

She conceived twice; each ending within six weeks of pregnancy. Turned out her period was just late after all.

But that was the closest they got. And they already had names, and they sang lullabies as the mess of their creation was flushed down the toilet. With blessings and prayers that would go unanswered. Perhaps a god they didn't believe in would grant their prayers.

The negative was her sentence, for whatever wrongdoing she had done in the past. The negative was ridicule from his family. There was something wrong with him. And Irishman should have a large family by now, shouldn't he?

The negative was their cross to bear. They pulled the weight together and carried on their way. Dragging it deeper and deeper into the ground, growing weaker and weaker with every footstep, every breath. They couldn't do this for much longer.

But at least they had each other, Bebe supposed as she lay in Kenny's vacant arms. They didn't feel so much like home, more like she was a choice he was stuck with. At least they could comfort one another, only she felt cold in his embrace, and remained unresponsive to his encouraging, hopeful whispers.


End file.
